Mulder and the king
by Mulder's Woman
Summary: Set in "Never Again." Mulder visits Graceland. After his cellphone conversation with Scully, he really needs to pee and finds more than he bargained for in the bathroom. He gets some great relationship advice from someone he's always admired.


Mulder and "The King"

He'd dreamt of coming here since it was opened to the public in 1982, and now that he was here, Mulder felt youthfully euphoric. Just buying the ticket had made him excited; he knew he'd tuck it in a drawer in his apartment and keep it forever.

It wasn't just the furnishings or the gold records or even the jumpsuits that thrilled him most. It was walking on the same floor and gathering all the little clues that would help him to really understand the man who had fascinated him all these years. All his skills as a profiler came into play … only this time it was for fun and fantasy, not in an effort to catch the bad guy.

He'd signed up for the usual touristy audio tour and listened to the facts being spewed out through the cheap headphones. He already knew most of what the narrator was yacking on about, so took them off and let them dangle uselessly. He'd glanced at the meditation garden outside, where the faithful came to pray. For some, it was a true pilgrimage.

Mulder marveled that the owner had purchased the property when he was only 22 years old. His widow had certainly struck gold when she took a lumbering old mansion with a half million in back taxes and turned it into an enterprise worth over $100 million. She and her daughter must be rolling in dough, Mulder mused.

As he wandered through the many rooms open to the public, picking up bits of information here and there, his thoughts turned to Scully and what she might think of this placed. He grimaced a little as he remembered their last moments together. The bureau was forcing him to take this vacation and he had dumped a case on her that she obviously had no interest in. She even accused him of pulling rank on her, which sent pangs of guilt through him.

He remembered telling her what he was doing was personal and realized that was a strange thing to say to someone who couldn't occupy a more personal space in his life. He told her he was on spiritual journey and really did mean it as gentle advice when he said he thought she should do the same. Maybe that would give her some happiness. Scully needed some happiness in her life.

He supposed she was in Philadelphia by now. He remembered the sad look on her face when she said that she'd lost sight of herself and that her own life was standing still. Mulder was torn. Part of him wanted to drop everything right then and there, rush over to her and hold her tightly in his arms.

"But what did I do?" Mulder muttered to himself. "I said that maybe it would be good if we got away from each other for a while."

"Stupid," he whispered, reaching for his cell phone. Whatever she said, he was going to keep it light and try to sound cheerful for once. He listened to the phone ring.

"Scully," she answered.

"Hi Scully, how's it going?"

"Mulder? What's wrong Mulder?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said, adjusting the cheap sunglasses he bought for an exorbitant fee in the gift shop. "I'm just at that special place, and I wanted to share it with you. Did you know that Elvis bought all the furniture in just 30 minutes?"

Scully didn't bite. "How did you know where I was?" she asked sharply.

"I-I checked where we always stay in Philadelphia. I knew you wouldn't abandon me. How's the case going?"

"I've handed it over to the Philadelphia bureau."

"The Philadelphia bureau? They don't know or care about the X-files. What are you doing?"

"Mulder, there is no X-file," she sighed wearily. "Your contact is connected to the Vorofskoi Mir; extortion, credit fraud, cons, he is nothing but a swindler."

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean, how do I know? You assigned me the background check. I did as told … as always," said Scully, raising her voice.

"Okay, just hold off until I get there, okay?"

"What, you don't think I'm capable?"

Oh, shit, Scully sounds pissed, thought Mulder. Better tread carefully here.

"Of course I believe that you're capable, it's just that in this case I need you to..."

Scully cut him off. "It's not just in this case, Mulder," she snipped, leaving a silence between them.

"Wh-what's the agent's name in Philadelphia?"

"It is over," said Scully, punctuating her words. "Done. Pudovkin is out of our hands. Look Mulder, I have to go."

Mulder scanned his brain cells quickly and thought one of his witty comments might lighten the mood.

"What, have you got a date, or something?"

Scully didn't answer. Mulder suddenly felt a knot twisting in his gut.

"Y-you're kidding," he stammered.

"I have everything under control. I will talk to you later," Scully said curtly. Mulder heard a click and then the dial tone in his ear.

"Bitch," he whispered. Mulder felt anger flood through him, but there was fear mixed up in that too. Scully couldn't really have a date, could she? Who the hell would she be going out with in Philadelphia? He knew her too well to believe she could have just picked up some guy. She'd obviously been mad at him. Maybe she was just screwing with his head, not screwing some other guy. Fear and anxiety were quickly replacing over the anger. He looked around and Graceland suddenly looked cheesy and fake. He walked down a long corridor and barely looked at the artifacts stuffed into every corner of the mansion.

"Jesus, Scully, how can one little phone conversation with you make me feel this bad?" he muttered.

Mulder felt a little queasy. The jumbo dog he'd eaten an hour ago probably didn't help. He also realized he really had to take a piss. The last men's room he'd seen had been way out front, but he had to go NOW. He continued down the hall and turned a corner, noticing a yellow silk rope across the bottom of a staircase with a dilapidated "No entry past this point" sign dangling from it.

Mulder sneered. He had snuck past far more obtrusive barriers in his everyday life as an agent. He looked up.

"There has to be a john up there," he said, taking a peek behind him before dashing up the stairs. The hallway up here wasn't decorated like it was downstairs and most of the doors were closed. Mulder stopped.

"Well Monty," he said out loud, "will it be door number one, door number two or door number three?"

The first two doors were locked. Locked doors weren't a problem for Mulder; he could open almost anything, but he'd prefer a swift solution to his predicament. He looked up and saw the last door on the right was actually open a crack. He wandered down, pushed the door open with his toe … and smiled at the gleaming porcelain staring back at him from the middle of a huge bathroom.

Mulder wasted no time. He closed the door behind him, headed for the toilet, unzipped and let it flow. He sighed loudly at the relief. He'd washed down that big dog with a huge iced tea and the caffeinated beverage had obviously found its way to his bladder. As he finished and reached out to flush, Mulder heard a shuffle behind him. He momentarily froze. Zipping up, he slowly turned around and his eyes snapped to the doorway. There was a tall man leaning back against it, arms crossed.

It was quiet. Mulder could swear he could hear his own heart beating. He instinctively reached down, but his weapon wasn't there. Who wears a weapon to Graceland? Mulder thought foggily.

The man leaning against the door didn't move, but he stared at Mulder with dark blue eyes. Neither spoke for a moment.

"You gonna wash your hands, son?"

"Uh … yeah … um … of course I am." Mulder turned to the sink and proceeded to wash thoroughly and dry his hands on a towel hanging from a circular ring. He glimpsed up into the mirror a couple of times and saw the man continuing to stare at him. Mulder turned to face him.

"Feel better now?" he asked.

Mulder hesitated. "Yeah."

"You know this area is out of bound to tourists, don't you, son?"

"Um … yeah … sorry, I just had to go real bad."

The man continued to stare. Then he smiled. Then he laughed loudly. Mulder took a good look at him. He was roguishly handsome. His hair was a touch darker than his own, but they both had the same flipped-up-and-back style in the front. Mulder was a great profiler, but even with this guy just ten feet away from him, he couldn't tell how old he was. From one angle he looked over 40, but upon blinking and turning his head, he could have sworn it was a man in his early 20s. He was dressed casually in dark pants and a black shirt. His shoes were black and gleaming.

Mulder was entranced by his smile. It seemed almost electric. Mulder had never been into men, but he found himself slightly aroused nonetheless.

"You know, I don't get to talk to the tourists. This entire floor is blocked off. I'm surprised you got up here at all. Security must be slipping."

Mulder smiled. "I guess I kind of have trouble following all the rules sometimes."

The man placed his hands on his hips and nodded. "I can identify with that. I always tried to be good, but man, it was tough sometimes."

Mulder bit his bottom lip. It didn't slip by him that this guy was talking about himself in the past tense.

"So are you … uh … staff here?" Mulder questioned.

That hearty laugh started up again. Mulder felt a little light headed and backed up, plunking the toilet lid down and sitting on it.

"No, I'm not staff. Actually, this is my home. Or at least it used to be a long time ago. I had some great times here."

Mulder caught the southern drawl in his voice.

"Actually, I originally bought this place because I thought my momma might really like it. It was real homey back then … no tourists poking their nose in every room. I even lived here for a while with my wife. We had some good times here … and some bad times. You married … um … what's your name?"

"M-Mulder."

"You married, Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder was surprised that his less-than-ideal phone conversation with Scully shot through his mind at that moment.

"No, not married. Was once but it didn't last long," said Mulder.

"You're a pretty good lookin' man, Mulder. There must be a lady out there somewhere who warms your sheets."

Mulder gulped. "No, no I don't have anyone like that." He paused. "I do have someone I trust, someone I care about more than anyone in the world, but she doesn't exactly warm my sheets," he said, smiling tentatively. Mulder must have been tired earlier, as now the bathroom visitor looked quite old.

The fellow at the doorway grinned. "You know, I like to get inside people's heads. I was always a people person. Never really liked to be alone. I sense you're alone a lot but I bet you don't have to be."

"Mulder, I had me quite a lot of women," he continued. "Some I loved. Some I didn't. Didn't matter, though, I tried my best to make each and every one of them feel special. I treated them as nice as I could. I tried never to take them for granted. Taking a woman for granted is probably the worst thing a man can do to a woman. You gotta treat the woman you're with at that moment like she is the most important person in the world to you."

Mulder just stared.

"Mulder, this woman who doesn't warm your sheets … you treat her like that?"

He dropped his head and stared at the shiny tile. "No," he whispered, "no, I'm afraid I don't."

Mulder looked up and made eye contact. The man with the black hair was looking young again. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but it didn't change the image. Mulder felt his heart beating quickly and was aware of perspiring. He wasn't sure what to say for a moment, but decided to share what had happened with Scully.

"Actually, I was just on the phone with her and she sounded really pissed at me. Guess I've been kind of a prick lately … just thinking about myself. I think I may have even pulled rank on her without thinking and bossed her around. I've made a lot of mistakes," said Mulder.

"We all make mistakes. God knows I made many, many mistakes in my day. Some that I'm not able to remedy now. I wouldn't want to see you leave this world with any major regrets, Mr. Mulder. You know what you have to do about that little lady of yours. You have to let her know that she's your one in five billion; that you trust her like no-one else and don't know what you'd do without her. You have to stop taking her for granted."

Mulder was nodding. His heartbeat was coming back to normal and he was feeling much better. The queasiness and the dizziness were gone. He stood up and walked toward the man. He started to extend his hand, but instead of extending his, the black-haired man drew his back sharply and laughed while backing away from the door.

Mulder opened the door wide.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

The man's smile softened. "No, no I'm not coming, Mr. Mulder. I usually stay here. Sometimes at night after the tourists have gone home I might go for a little wander around the mansion, but other than that, I just hang out here. It's quiet."

Mulder nodded slowly.

"You ain't gonna tell anybody you saw me here, are you? I wouldn't want my quiet space to be swarming with tourists."

Mulder smiled. "No, I won't tell anyone." Mulder chuckled. "Most of the time when I tell people about things I've seen, they don't believe me anyway, so no, I won't tell."

Mulder took one last look into those blue eyes and slowly closed the door. He walked down the staircase, through the mansion and to his car without really being aware of moving at all. He looked at the pilgrims praying in the garden, but found no desire to join them. He had come here for a spiritual journey and had achieved that and so much more.

On the trip home, he was going to plan a strategy that would ensure the most important person in his life knew how essential she was to him. That was a spiritual journey he was willing to spend the rest of his life perfecting.


End file.
